


Take Responsibility!

by Fire_Bear



Series: Pets-R-Us [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Arguing, Birth, Cats, Chef!Francis, Gen, Minor ailment, Pets, Police!Alfred, Vet!Lili, librarian!arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4845809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's cat has gotten pregnant after wandering from the garden. Determined to find the owner of the father, Arthur puts up posters and waits...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Responsibility!

"She's _WHAT_?!" Arthur shouted, eyes wide.

"Please calm down, Mister Kirkland," said Dr. Zwingli, raising her hands in an attempt to placate him.

"But she can't be! She hardly leaves the house, let alone the garden!"

"I thought you didn't let her outside and that was why you felt safe in not getting her spayed," Dr. Zwingli pointed out.

"Normally she doesn't - but she was being antsy, so I started letting her out for a few minutes per day."

"Has she left at any time in the past few weeks?"

Arthur paused. "I... She _did_ disappear for a few hours last week. But a few hours wouldn't mean she could find a mate and... _Well_."

"Perhaps it's one of the cats which visited your garden over the past months," the vet said, brushing Gwen's fur back to inspect some scratches. "It looks like her last adventure has healed quite nicely."

Sighing, Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "What am I supposed to do with them? I can't keep a handful of kittens – I barely get by as it is. Especially," he added, sending his beloved Scottish Fold a glare, "with frequent trips to the vet."

The young woman giggled. "You could always try giving them to your friends. Either way, I have a few leaflets and information to give you on how to deal with the birth."

"Hell." Arthur sighed again and shook his head. "Sorry, Doctor."

"I've told you before to call me Lili, Mister Kirkland."

"And I told _you_ to call me Arthur," he pointed out, grinning.

Lili nodded and, as promised, began to go over the information for Arthur to know about the upcoming birth. When he finally left the surgery, he had his cat carrier in one hand and a pile of leaflets and sheets of paper in the other. After he had put the box in the back (he had collapsed the seats so he could see Gwen, worried as he was), he climbed into the car himself and started it, swiftly pulling out of the near-empty car park.

"You," he told his cat, glancing into the rearview mirror to glare at her, "are a right pain. Honestly, what were you thinking leaving the garden?!" A thought struck him and his brow furrowed all the more. "And what were _they_ thinking, not getting their cat neutered and letting them loose on the neighbourhood."

Actually, now that Arthur thought about it, clearly this was the owner of the father's fault. He dearly wished he could confront them and scold them for not taking care of their cat properly. _And_ Arthur could use some help on the day of the birth. If only he could drag the person to his place and get him to assist him. He knew that he'd be too worried to be alone that day.

But there was no way of knowing which cat it was or who owned it.

Huffing, Arthur turned into his street, wondering what he'd do with the kittens. Even if he said he couldn't keep them, he wasn't sure he wouldn't be able to part with them when the time came. He _adored_ cats and the kittens would be cute...

If only he knew who the owner was.

Just as he parked his car in his driveway (he was going to have to go stock up on more cat food so parking in the garage made no sense), his phone chimed and, frowning, he pulled it from his pocket. He groaned when he noted it was a picture message from Francis, the 'chef' at the small café they had within the library Arthur worked at. Hoping it wasn't what he thought it was (especially with the caption of _Doesn't he look beautiful, cher?_ ), he opened it and found himself staring at a picture of a white Birman. Arthur cooed at the picture before regaining control of himself so he could reply. ( _He does, indeed – unlike you._ )

After he had pressed send, he stared at the picture, thinking. Pictures... Lost posters... "Ha!" said Arthur, grinning at Gwen. "Now, that might just work. A reverse lost poster. Maybe we can find the father, hm?"

* * *

As the library Arthur worked at had a photocopier, he merely printed off a poster and took it in the next day. After explaining to his boss the situation, he was allowed to use the machine with the expense being taken from his wage. Once he had gotten a large pile of them, he distributed them after the library had closed for the day, ignoring Francis's mocking comments. He put some up on the noticeboards in the community buildings, including the police and fire stations. Every bus stop in town was gifted with one and he even requested the local taxi company had one in each of their cars. Then he stalked the neighbourhood he lived in, sticking one on every pole he could find. He made his way outwards from his street in an ever widening circle until, finally, he had run out of posters.

One of his neighbours stopped him to ask about it, as the posters announced Gwen's pregnancy and asked for anyone who had seen her around their place to come forward which he obviously found odd. When the situation was explained, the neighbour had laughed (which Arthur didn't appreciate but chuckled politely, regardless). Then he'd mentioned that it may have been the new cat he'd seen prowling the streets. Irritated at it being someone new to town, Arthur hurried inside to calm himself before he shouted at his neighbours.

He had expected never hearing from anyone – after all, if the owner had been so irresponsible as to not have their cat neutered, then why would they call to admit it? However, as he was cooking, the phone rang and he grabbed it. Trying to hold a frying pan, spatula and phone, he had to trap the device to his ear with a shoulder.

"Hello?"

"Hiya! Is this Arthur Kirkland?" asked a voice. It sounded like a man, perhaps a few years younger than Arthur himself. Or, perhaps, less cynical and able to enjoy life.

"Yes, this is he. If you're trying to sell me something I-"

"Haha, nah! I'm not a salesman. I'm Alfred F. Jones and I just saw your poster and, well, I'm sure I saw your cat the other day, hanging out with Kent."

"Really?" asked Arthur, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He flipped some bacon and sausages onto his plate to complete his comforting fry-up. Really, a fry-up was more of a breakfast or lunch but Arthur didn't have the energy to fight with the oven to make a better meal. Shaking those thoughts away, he remembered he was still on the phone. "Oh. Who _is_ Kent?"

"He's my cat!" Alfred exclaimed. "He's super fluffy and real friendly!"

Arthur paused again. "Your... _male_ cat was seen around my _female_ cat and now she's pregnant?"

This time, Alfred was the one who paused. "Yeah... Hey! D'ya think Kent's the father, then!"

"It's possible-"

"Cool! You totally need to come over and meet him! My address is seventeen-o-one, Bradbury Street. See you soon?"

"What-? I can't come over just now – I've just cooked. And-"

"Then I'll see you after. Gotta go. See ya!"

The dial tone sounded in Arthur's ear as he struggled to come up with something to respond with. Putting down the spatula, Arthur took the phone from his ear and stared down at it. He hadn't been able to ask whether the cat had been neutered and his home phone had no Caller I.D. so he would have to go talk to the man face to face.

* * *

Once he had pulled up in front of the house, Arthur stared up at it. The building was a carbon copy of each of the others on the street: brick, two storeys, peeling white paint on a wooden porch, driveway to the side. The bold number 1701 and overgrown grass in the front garden – or yard, here – were the only differences. Arthur frowned at it and he itched to find a lawn mower and sort it out. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and glared at the house.

"Right," he muttered to himself. "I ask him whether he has Kent neutered and then, if the answer's 'no'... give him what for. He needs to learn his lesson. And I'm not going to get distracted."

Nodding to himself, Arthur climbed out of his car, locked it (he wasn't taking any chances – this may look like a nice neighbourhood but you never knew) and marched up the barely visible path. Resisting the urge to hammer on the man's door, he jabbed at the doorbell – distantly he heard a brief jingle. Then came the footsteps and the door opened.

Arthur was immediately distracted as he gaped at the man before him.

It seemed that the reason the lawn was unkempt and the paint was peeling was because the man had likely just moved in. Beyond him, Arthur could spot boxes but he was mostly focussed on the striking cyan paint which had made its way into the man's blond hair, on his glasses and all over his overalls. There was even a spot on his cheek, just below his eyes so that Arthur could compare the colours and see that they matched beautifully. His overalls had been unzipped, presumably because the man was hot and Arthur could see the muscles beneath his grubby, white t-shirt.

In short, Alfred F. Jones was attractive and it was going to annoy Arthur if he was the one behind his cat getting pregnant.

"Oh, hey! You Arthur Kirkland?" asked the man, cheerfully. "Hope ya don't mind but, since I wasn't sure when you'd be coming, I got to redecorating. Just moved in, see?"

"I do," Arthur agreed. "Now, I only really came over to-"

"You wanna see Kent, right? Come on in."

"No!" exclaimed Arthur, hurriedly, resisting the urge to let Alfred usher him into his home and dote on him for a few hours. He had a mission, dammit! "No, I have things to be doing at home. I only came because you didn't leave a number and I-"

"Oh! I can totally give you that right-"

"No," Arthur repeated, much more firmly. "I just wanted to ask you a question."

"Okay, sure. What is it?"

"Did you get Kent neutered?"

"What?" Alfred looked confused. "Well... No. I found 'im on the street and just figured he was fine 'cause he wasn't ill or anything. Why?" He shrugged, evidently brushing the question off.

Alfred was so casual about it, that Arthur bristled. "Well, how could you be so bloody irresponsible?!"

"Huh?"

"If you had had him neutered, none of this would have happened! Gwen's never ventured out of the garden before so it was all your stupid cat's fault!"

"Kent's not stupid!" snapped Alfred, his eyes narrowing. He was just as distractingly attractive when angry and Arthur had to clutch at his own.

"It's still his responsibility! I can't afford to keep these kittens and they're going to end up going to a shelter and then they'll be put down because no-one wants them!This is _your_ fault and you should take responsibility!" Arthur took a deep breath, trying to slow down his heavy breathing as he realised his cheeks were red and that he had been shouting at a man he barely knew. As he spotted Alfred open his mouth to retort, clearly irritated, Arthur decided he should leave before _he_ was shouted at. "Just... Just keep that cat away from mine." And he spun on his heel and marched back to his car, feeling a little guilty at blowing up at him.

* * *

He found that he couldn't sleep that night. A strange mix of nightmares that featured an angry Alfred and fantasies involving a _smirking_ Alfred meant he was woken every few minutes. The lack of sleep gave him a pounding headache which gradually got worse throughout the day. So he was relieved when his lunch break came around and he wandered off to Francis's café.

"Bonjour, mon ami," said the Frenchman, grinning at him. "Are you well? Did you find the father of your kittens?"

"Yes, I did actually. I gave him a good talking to." His head throbbed. "But I'd rather just have a cup of tea over at my usual spot."

Francis looked at him appraisingly. "Are you all right? You look rather pale."

"Lack of sleep," Arthur insisted.

"Are you-?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Arthur snapped before wincing. "Just... Tea. Please?"

"Your usual, I'm assuming?" Francis sighed, already pulling out a large, white mug.

"Of course."

Arthur made his way over to the table in the corner. It was right next to the little corridor to the single toilet and people tended to avoid it. As he waited, he rested his elbows on the table and rubbed at his forehead to try to relieve the pressure. He had already taken plenty of painkillers and he was likely going to overdose himself if he took any more. So he would have to make do with tea and rubbing at the sore spots.

Once Francis had delivered his tea and let him be, Arthur sipped it slowly until, finally, the pain ebbed slightly. Sighing in relief, he decided that he would be fine without anything to eat (he still felt a little nauseous) and was about to leave when Francis slipped into the spare seat at his table.

"Feeling any better?" he asked.

"I was. Until _someone_ decided to speak to me." Arthur gave Francis an unimpressed stare.

Chuckling, Francis shrugged. "I was concerned."

"Well, don't be. I'm fine." He winced and rubbed at a sore spot. "More or less."

Now Francis frowned. "You should not be working like that."

"I'm _fine_. Honestly, Francis, it's not like I've never managed with something like this before." Satisfied that he had argued his case, Arthur thought he could get away. Instead, Francis let out a shocked squeal which seemed to saw against Arthur's painful head.

" _What_?! Arthur Kirkland, you go home-"

" _No_. God, I'm fine. Stop fussing." Arthur let Francis glare at him for a second before adding, "And you're making it worse."

A flash of guilt crossed Francis's face before he sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Be stubborn. But I have some news I wanted to pass onto you."

"Oh?"

"There's a new deputy in town."

"Really? And who would that be?"

"Nobody knows yet – he started today. I heard from Lili that he's making his way around town. Maybe he'll stop by here next. Do you think he will be handsome?"

"I doubt it," Arthur answered, pushing his chair back. "After all, we haven't had a handsome policeman around here in the past few years. I'm going now. Good day to you," he finished, using his customary goodbye for Francis – one in which he could add several levels of disdain to, depending on how annoyed he was with the man at any given time.

"Au revoir, mon petit," Francis replied, a ritual of his own.

Arthur flipped him off as usual and began to make his way to the door leading to the library. As he moved towards it, he could see someone approaching from the other side. Before he could make out who it was – one of his regulars? One of his fellow librarians? A newcomer? - a wave of pain hit him and he wobbled. Darkness impaired his vision for a moment and he felt himself topple, hitting his hip off the edge of a table and bouncing off it to fall towards the floor. There were several, echoing, loud shouts which exacerbated the pain: Arthur pressed his hands to his head instead of bracing himself for the landing. However, instead of a sudden pain in his knees, Arthur felt arms catch him and pull him upright before depositing him into a chair.

Now that he was seated, the throbbing in his head faded a little, enough for Arthur to be able to hear someone speaking. "Holy shit! Mister Kirkland, are you all right?" He recognised the voice.

"He has a migraine," he heard Francis sigh. "It is lucky you caught him." Arthur realised that he was laying on his accent thick now – which meant whoever had caught him was _very_ attractive. "You must be the new Deputy, oui? I am Francis Bonnefoy. I am the chef here."

"Heya, Mister Bonnefoy. Nice to meetcha. I'm Deputy Jones."

At that, Arthur frowned and squeezed his eyes closed. Jones. Where had he heard that name recently? He blinked a few times and his vision focussed again.

Oh, how he wished he'd just kept them closed.

"Y-You're-!" he managed as he stared at the man he had scolded the night before.

"Ah, hey," said Alfred, moving over to Arthur from the counter where he had been talking to Francis. He knelt before Arthur to look up at him and the librarian's eyes widened. What the hell was he doing? "You back with us? Listen, do you remember what happened? 'Cause, if not, I gotta take you to the hospital."

"I, uh..." said Arthur, hesitantly. Why was Alfred being nice to him after the way Arthur had acted the night before? "Uh, yes. Of course I do. It's nothing, really. I get migraines every once in a while. Nothing to fret about."

Alfred's worried look flickered into a smile before he frowned at Arthur. "You shouldn't be here: you need rest, right? So I'm gonna take you home, all right?"

"What? No! I still have work-" Arthur began to protest.

"No way, dude. You're pale and sweating and... well... you look like crap." Alfred stood and gave him a stern look. "I'm driving you home."

* * *

And that was how Arthur found himself being driven home in a police car (without the siren, thankfully). It was silent, broken only by the occasional crackling of the radio and messages being sent back and forth between the Sheriff and his underlings. Alfred was solely focussed on the road. Arthur kept glancing at him, wondering if he should make conversation or apologise for the night before. Whenever he thought about it, Arthur winced as a throb of pain hit him.

"Stop that," said Alfred, suddenly.

"What?" asked Arthur, alarmed. His migraine decided to bother him then and he winced.

"You're getting stressed and it's making your migraine worse. So stop it. I'm not... It doesn't matter. Last night, I mean. I get that I haven't been very responsible with Kent but I honestly had no money for a vet till recently and it completely slipped my mind to get him checked out. Besides, he seemed fine to me."

"Oh, yes," Arthur drawled, rolling his eyes and then wincing as that caused further pain. "He was completely fine."

"Hey. Don't be like that," growled Alfred, looking at Arthur this time, his eyes narrowed. Arthur flinched and Alfred grimaced at his reaction. "Aw, c'mon... Look. We obviously didn't get off on the right foot. So we better get off the left one, right?" He grinned at Arthur who blinked and tried to process what had just happened.

"I... Yes. Okay."

"Cool. Well... Can I come in and see her?"

"What? Why?"

"She looked super sweet when I spotted her," Alfred explained, shrugging a shoulder. "I just wanna see her up close, y'know?"

"I don't know..." Arthur's nose wrinkled as he thought about it. Should he let a near-stranger come into his home?

Before he could answer, Alfred slowed and began to glance around. "Which street was it, again?"

"It's forty-two, Millstone Road. Over there." Arthur pointed and, with a nod, Alfred sped up to round the corner and continue on, slowing once again so he could read the numbers. Finding the white house with the surrounding brown fence, he stopped the car, surveying it. Arthur thought he was too busy with his thoughts so tried to escape but he was stopped as he made to get out.

"So? Can I?"

"Wha-? Oh." Arthur hesitated before shaking his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. We're probably not going to see each other much after this. I usually keep to myself, see, and I-"

"Don't be silly! It took two to make the babies, right? So two should look after the mother!" Alfred grinned at him.

There was really no reason for Alfred not to come in; at least, none that he could think of, especially as Arthur's migraine was steadily receding. He sighed. "All right. Come on in, then."

Alfred cheered, remembered Arthur's migraine, apologised and switched off the engine so quickly that Arthur felt a little dizzy. Shaking his head, he got out of the car and Alfred locked it before he followed Arthur to the house. The librarian unlocked the front door and stepped inside, looking around for his beloved cat.

It was as they bustled around in the hall, removing shoes and coats, that Gwen appeared. She watched them for a few moments until Alfred stepped towards her. Then she moved forward and, after winding her way around Arthur's legs and allowing him to pet her, she moved to Alfred and did the same thing.

Arthur was shocked. Gwen had never taken kindly to anyone else before. In fact, when Francis had visited after Arthur first got her, she had scratched him rather badly and they had had to go to the hospital. Francis still called her 'Diable'.

The deputy grinned at the attention and knelt to speak with her and stroke her fur. Gwen purred. And, watching from the sidelines, Arthur felt his migraine (and stress) disappear as he watched, a small smile on his face.

* * *

After Arthur had provided coffee (instant, despite Francis's – and now Alfred's – complaints) and had spoken with him, he had seen him off only to encounter him the next morning when the deputy gave him a lift to the library (seeing as he had left his car there the day before). They got on well once they had apologised for both of their actions and Alfred started to come over to see Gwen every night. Sometimes, he even brought the Maine Coon he called Kent and they would watch as he snuggled up next to Gwen for a nap.

Kent was a rather large cat – it looked as though Alfred had been feeding him rather well. Or too well, as some would say. Regardless of weight problems, Kent was very fluffy. He also seemed to be smiling most of the time and even had markings around his eyes: Alfred joked that Kent was so much like his owner that he needed glasses.

All in all, Arthur decided the kittens would be utterly adorable.

Weeks passed and Arthur and Alfred began to meet for lunch, watched by Francis who usually made a comment via text to Arthur. Mostly, Arthur ignored him. Unfortunately, even he could see that he was starting to fall for Alfred. He resisted his feelings, though: he still felt that he barely knew Alfred, after all, and he didn't want to chase him away. Besides, he hadn't even brought up the subject of sexuality and he knew, with his luck, Alfred would end up being straight. So he restricted himself to only being friends and merely hoped for more.

Then the night of the birth came.

Gwen usually only spent time in Arthur's presence sparingly, except for when curling up next to him when he was reading. However, on his day off she began to follow him around the house, rubbing against his legs and purring, even meowing for him from other rooms. Then she had proceeded to take all the pillows and sheets he had gotten specifically for her from the nests he had built to take them in front of the TV. He had watched her do it, perplexed, until he had rifled through the leaflets and realised that she was getting ready. Horrified, he had grabbed his phone and rung Alfred.

"Hey, Art. What's up?"

"Oh, my God, Alfred! I think-" He broke off as Gwen waddled over to the nest she had just made and settled down. With a panicked squeak, Arthur forced himself to speak. "I think they're coming!"

There was a short pause. "What's coming?" asked Alfred, sounding bewildered.

"The kittens, you dolt!"

"Oh." Another pause. "Oh! Oh, my God. Right. I-I'll be there ASAP, Artie. Just... Keep calm, okay? Carry on or whatever."

Arthur attempted to do so, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He was glad he had admitted to Alfred that he was immensely worried about this day. After all, what if he did something wrong? What if he hurt Gwen? What if he felt he had to do nothing and the kittens or Gwen were hurt? "Okay. I-I'll be waiting..."

They hung up and Arthur sat down on the couch only to fidget so much that he attracted Gwen's annoyed gaze. Grimacing, he hurried out of the room and paced around the house, returning every so often to peek into the living room. Luckily, it hadn't started and Alfred was there almost half an hour later.

"What took you so long?!" Arthur whispered as he wrenched open the door. Then he noticed the animal in Alfred's arms. "No. What the hell is _Kent_ doing here?!"

"I'm sorry! I was in the vet's with him to get... _y'know_. I didn't want to leave him in the car." Alfred looked at Arthur with large eyes, pleading with him.

Reluctantly, he moved out of the way for the police officer. "You'll have to shut him in the kitchen, though. He can't go near Gwen just now."

Once they had done just that, they went back to the living room where Gwen seemed to be getting restless. "I think they're coming," said Arthur, wringing his hands.

"Relax, Artie," said Alfred, guiding him to his couch and sitting him down. "All we need to do is... watch... and help out if we needta. Right?"

Slowly, Arthur nodded. "But if something goes wrong...?"

"Lili's a phone call away, Art. Calm down. How about we get some food and _you_ get some tea and we can check back every few minutes until it's over?"

"I don't really want to leave her..."

Alfred seemed to consider it and then shrugged. "Okay. Why don't you go make tea, I'll watch over her and you can be back in a few minutes."

"All right..." Arthur shakily stood, watching for any signs of kittens. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"A Coke'll do!"

* * *

Five hours later, Arthur felt exhausted – even though he had not been the one squeezing out five kittens. Mostly, it had gone well. But the last hour and a half had been horrendous – there was a runt of the litter and, for some time, Arthur had thought for sure the little thing was going to die. Gwen tried to stop them from tending to it for a few minutes before she fell asleep and they could clean him up and place him back into the litter.

After everything had settled, Alfred let Kent back in and he nosed at the little babies. Arthur thought he looked proud and even caught him nudging at the runt a little to help it get some milk. The others seemed strong enough to get by and, all in all, the birth had been a success.

He let himself collapse onto the sofa beside Alfred who grinned at him. "You worry _way_ too much."

"I worry just enough."

"What're you gonna do with them?" Alfred watched the kittens squirming beside their mother, smiling fondly.

"I..." Arthur sighed. "They're adorable. I don't... I rather want to keep them." He grimaced. "Though, how I will afford that..."

"How about I take a couple? They can live with me and Kent and they'd still be with family." Alfred paused, gazing at Arthur who blinked back at him. "You can visit whenever you like. And I could visit the ones living here."

"Oh." Arthur smiled at Alfred, glad that _he_ was the owner and not someone who would have left Arthur to deal with them on his own. "That would be lovely. Thank you."

"No problem. I get to hang out with my bestie, that way!"

"Your... what?"

Alfred shrugged. "Well, since I moved here, you've become my best friend. So it only makes sense if we, y'know, hang out more." He grinned at Arthur, looking rather hopeful.

Smiling, Arthur nodded. He _had_ gotten rather attached to having Alfred visiting every night. And, although he had found himself wanting a little more than friendship over the past couple of weeks, he was happy to be considered a 'best friend'. "That sounds wonderful," he said and relished in the blinding grin Alfred gave him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a result of taking a lot of liberties. For example, Arthur should have had Gwen spayed, too. So it's technically both of their faults - but I wouldn't have had this story and I liked the idea (which I had had before I looked stuff up). So I'm sorry for that inaccuracy. (I couldn't think of a good excuse for Arthur to not have had Gwen spayed except for, maybe, a complication in the operation so I just ignored that issue altogether.)
> 
> You're supposed to make [nests](http://www.purina.co.uk/content/your-cat/life-changes/pregnant-cats/cat-labour-and-giving-birth) for cats when they're gonna give birth but, really, the cats can choose wherever they want and you shouldn't try to move them.
> 
> Diable means Devil, by the way.
> 
> I also layered lots of lovely geeky things in this story. Did you spot them? Not to worry, though - I'll just point them out now:  
> You can take Gwen's name in three different ways: Gwen from Torchwood, Guinevere from the King Arthur legends and Merlin or Gwendoline from Malory Towers. I actually took it from the last one as I spotted the books the other day and looked it up. The protagonist is called Darrell and I didn't want the cat to be called that so I took Gwen instead.  
> Kent is, of course, Clark Kent.  
> 1701 is taken from the serial number for the Enterprise from Star Trek. Bradbury is a class of starship.  
> 42 is the answer to the Question of Life, the Universe and Everything from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Millstone is from Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings - the worst poet in the universe, according to the same series. (All the planets had really weird names so I couldn't use them.)


End file.
